


Safety and Peace

by amiyade



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Canon Timeline, Friendship without personal space, Gen, Malik having none of your bullshit, neither does Maria, one shots, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiyade/pseuds/amiyade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was easy to hate Altaïr when Malik faced the hardest challenges in his life, but it was hard not to see the changes. Later it was hard to keep the Brotherhood together, although loving Altaïr was the easiest part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about the title, I coudn't come up with anything else... There won't be any smut, sorry. Their love is too pure for that. :D

The afternoon sun thankfully moved on, only illuminating the wall next to him and not shining in his eyes any more. It would have taken just a few adjustments with the draperies on the windows, but Malik did not find it in himself to bother with them that day. He placed down the quill he was writing with and rubbed his eyes. He was working on the map all day now, but still could not finish it. He was distracted. The city was in uproar, Saracens and Crusaders everywhere and again the rumours about the Assassin walking the streets like a ghost. It was more and more difficult for them to work in the city, especially with the trail of bodies Altaïr was leaving behind. But the funeral was on the following day, so one way or another this wretched situation will finally end.

Malik had to send away everyone whose presence wasn’t entirely necessary for maintaining surveillance in the city, because of the attention Altaïr was getting for them. He heard the guards didn’t let scholars walk around freely anymore, or even attacked them, because they thought the men were working for the Assassins. It was a mess. Malik turned his attention back to his map, except he just couldn’t force himself to continue. He needed a break, but it was too early for one again, and the sooner he would finish this, the better. He picked up the quill when he heard the soft thud of someone landing in the garden. He didn’t bother to find out who arrived, since it could only be one of their brothers. Even if their enemies knew where the Bureau was, which they didn’t, they’d make such noise, he could have heard them from a block away. They might have great numbers, and they could fight, but they lacked stealth completely. Whoever was in the other room though wasn’t eager to make their identity known to Malik. He heard the splash of water and the ruffling of clothes, but nothing else, not even a greeting. Which could mean only one thing: Altaïr. 

Anyone else would have some manners to at least greet him. Malik thought they were past this, but obviously it was just him giving the Assassin the benefit of the doubt. Well, it wasn’t the first time he was wrong, but it still left a sour feeling in his gut. He went back to his work, or would have, if not for his eyes and arm starting to hurt from the crunched position he was in. He shouldn’t have taken a break; he wouldn’t have noticed the ache at least for an hour or two that way. So he stood up to check on the Assassin; annoying him some should serve as a fine distraction. When he laid eyes on Altaïr, he was sitting by the wall on the cushions, his head hanging low, obviously napping, judging from the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. His robes were dirty and there was a makeshift bandage on his left upper arm with a bloodied cloth. The blood was visibly seeping through it and into his already stained shirt. Fresh wound then; or a quite big one.

“You get dirt everywhere in my place and I don’t even get a greeting?” He spoke up standing above the man. Altaïr jolted awake, hand going to his belt immediately. Malik moved at the same time by instinct; dropping down next to the Assassin and grabbing Altaïr’s wrist.

“Peace, brother.” Malik murmured when Altaïr’s eyes focused on his face.

“Malik,” he sounded tired and rubbed his face with his free hand, wincing from the pain and dropping the throwing knife from his other hand.

“What did you expect after falling asleep in my Bureau?” More like lost consciousness, he thought for himself. Could it be that the Assassin just came in and passed out? “When was the last time you slept?” Unsurprisingly he didn’t get an answer. Altaïr just freed his arm from Malik's grip and leaned back against the wall. He looked tired, worn, his face sullen and dark shadows under his eyes, which were not caused by his hood. Well, that was expected from the last months of travelling and missions, but the road to redemption was a long and hard one. He decided not to antagonise the man, at least not that much.

“Let me have a look on that.” Malik nodded at Altaïr’s injured arm.

“It’s nothing serious” answered the man, without even looking at him. “You don’t need to bother yourself with it.”

“Well, I have better things to do, than cleaning up after you bleed all over my place, so do me a favour and behave like a reasonable adult.” He got up to get the bandages from the other room.

“As if you wouldn’t make novices do such things for you” muttered the Assassin to Malik’s back.

“I had to send away almost everyone, not to get them caught in the crossfire between you and your mission.” Again he only got a telling silence as an answer. “Make yourself useful. Bring water.” He threw a small bucket at Altaïr, which he caught and got up to go to the little fountain. He tried to hide the wince when he leaned on his injured arm, while sitting down again, but Malik still saw it. Stubborn fool. Was this the reason why he just slipped in, trying to hide his injury? Still acting tough then, Malik resisted the urge to sigh.

“You can also tell me what you have learned, so you won’t waste even more of my time.”

“Still with this nonsense?” Altaïr grunted.

“It’s not my decision, and I still think it’s a good lesson for you. Now strip and start talking. I don’t have all day.” His annoyance seeped into his voice and Altaïr heard it too. He clenched his jaw, but started to unbuckle his weapon belts, dropping everything on the floor next to himself while he told Malik, what he learned about the funeral, all the guards in the city and his plan to confront Robert de Sable. He didn’t look at Malik at all; he even left his hood on, when he stripped his clothes from his torso. Malik wanted to sigh in annoyance from his hiding, but he contained himself. If he rubbed the wet cloth over Altaïr’s wound with more force than necessary while cleaning it, he thought nobody could blame him.

“Hold this.” Malik told him pressing the clean gauze over the wound after he spread the balm on it. “I wouldn’t count on the scholars if I were you,” it was the first time Altaïr looked at him, peeking out from under his hood. “The guards are too eager to catch you. They don’t let them wander around so freely as before.” He said while bandaging the Assassin’s arm.

The man scowled. “Great.”

“The cemetery is big enough and there’ll be a crowd, you’ll find a way in. You should be worrying about your way out.”

“I always have a way out.” Altaïr looked away again fixing his gaze on a spot on the wall.

“Yes, running while the entire city is tailing you.” That earned him a glare, but Malik just looked back at him unimpressed. “Anyway,” he got up and picked up the box of bandages too. “You have my blessing; clean that up before you leave.” He nodded at the bloodied fabrics and water, went back behind his desk to put away the box and take out a feather for Altaïr. The man didn’t seem to move, just stared at the wall.

“Malik, before I go, there’s something I should say.”

“More talking? It’s not like you, but if it will get you out of my hair finally, by all means, speak.” He could imagine Altaïr’s jaw clenching, he saw that a lot lately and waited for some arrogant comeback, but instead he said:

“I’ve been a fool.”

“Normally I’d make no argument, but what is this? What are you talking about?” Again Altaïr did not make a comment, just turned his head to his way, staring at the floor in front of him.

“I wanted to apologise.” Malik felt his breath stuck in his lungs, but forced himself to exhale. Could it be…?

“If so I’m up here” he still said, because he’d be damned if he makes this easier for the man. Altaïr yanked his hood from his head and glared up at him. Malik saw the movement he made to rise, but then decided against it. He squared his shoulders and looked up at Malik. The man didn’t stop the smirk forming on his lips, but he let it drop when he saw the irritation replaced by sincerity in Altaïr’s eyes.

“All this time I never told you, I was sorry. Too damn proud… My mistakes cost you much. Your arm, Kadar… You had every right to be angry.” He swallowed, but didn’t look away, amber eyes burning into Malik's. “I’m really sorry. For everything.” Malik’s right arm started to rise to his left shoulder, but he stopped the movement. He looked at Altaïr for a few moments before answering.

“I do not accept your apology.” He said firmly and watched the other’s shoulders slump when he looked away.

“I understand.” He said quietly.

“No. You don’t.” Malik said after a moment, taking pity on the man. Altaïr looked up at him confused. “I do not accept your apology because you’re not the same man who went with me into Solomon’s Temple. You have changed. And so you have nothing to apologise for.”

“Malik...” the relief visibly spread through his whole body.

“Perhaps if I had not been so envious of you, I would not have been so careless myself. I am just as much to blame.” He felt a lump in his throat, but he forced out the words, because they were true, and he owned that much to the Assassin at that point.

“Don’t say such things” said Altaïr in a small voice, making the other man breathe just a bit easier.

“We are one. As we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. In this way we grow closer. We grow stronger.” Malik held out the feather to him.

“Rest now, brother. You still have your task before you.” It came out softer, than he originally intended and taking from his face, Altaïr noticed it too. A small, real smile appeared on his lips and Malik found himself liking that look on the other’s face. Altaïr reached for the feather, but instead of just taking it, he took Malik’s hand, enclosed it with both in his own and leaned his forehead to the back of Malik’s hand.

“Thank you.” It was barely audible, but he said it. Malik’s pulse jumped from the contact and the emotions radiating from those two simple words. Altaïr really had changed. He decided he could get used to this Altaïr. The moment stretched out, none of them was too eager to break it. Finally Altaïr let out a long breath and raised his head, taking the feather from Malik and not looking at him again, busying himself with gathering his clothes and weapons into a pile.

“Safety and Peace, Malik.”

“Your presence here might deliver me both.” Malik murmured while turning around. He saw Altaïr’s head rise, but he did not look back, going back to his desk, not daring to see the other’s face. He sat back to his map. For some time he heard movements from the other room, then silence. He started working with a new found energy. When he finished the map it was late in the night, he put away everything from the counter and took a look out the garden. The entrance on the roof was closed, Malik didn’t even notice when Altaïr did that. Said man was lying among the cushions, facing the wall and covered with his robes, sleeping.

“Good luck.” He whispered to the slumbering form and found himself really wishing for the man’s success and safe return. He wondered, when did that happen. He meant it when he said he couldn’t accept his apology, even if it was good to hear it. But when did all the hate seep from his heart? Altaïr really had paid for his mistakes and learned from them. Even if his wounds would never heal completely, there was no reason to hate the man forever. Not this man. He shook his head and headed for his own bed, to at least catch a few hours of sleep, because when Altaïr leaves, there won’t be time to rest. He was sure of that.

When he woke up the next day, Altaïr was already gone, and after a few hours, all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then the end of AC1 happened. There will be more, stay tuned.


	2. Chapter 2

Malik was restless. If he’d be the type he’d be pacing around in the Bureau, but instead he just sat on the game table pretending to read a book and waiting. But he was restless. When he heard the voice of his man, he was on his feet in a moment walking to the door.

“Malik,” the Assassin greeted him, but he dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

“Did you find them?” Looking at the man he noticed his ruffled appearance. That didn’t mean good.

“Yes, we did. Khaled was willing to listen, but the others…“ he shook his head. “They didn’t believe one word and accused Altaïr with treachery.”

“And?” Malik asked when the Assassin fell silent.

“They left. But one of them came after us later. He… I had to kill him” answered the man in a quiet voice.

“That’s one more.” Malik rubbed his forehead wearily thinking on the list he kept on the casualties. It was growing way too long already. He had been in Jerusalem for a few days now, hunting down his own brothers. This was a mess. He let out a weary sigh and looked back at the other man. He saw the same tiredness and anger in his eyes which he himself felt.

“We heard some disturbing news from Acre. Khaled agreed to go there and help. As for now here is everything under control.”

“Thank you, brother.” Malik put his hand on the other’s shoulder. “I am sorry, you had to do this.”

“We all are, _Dai_ ” was the man’s replay. “But most of us don’t have anything else but the Creed. We won’t stand by and watch it crumble because of some fools who won’t listen to reason.” Malik allowed himself a little smile and squeezed the other’s shoulder before letting go.

“Then I’ll ride to Masyaf tomorrow.”

***

 

During his way from the city gates to the citadel, Malik heard several variations of what have happened since he left. Some felt like they came from some tale with what parents frighten their children, still he couldn’t help but think even those held some truth. He barely saw his brothers in the streets and the townsfolk looked at him with wariness in their eyes. Even the Assassins looked confused. It was all a big mess. At least nobody tried to stop him when he entered the castle and asked for Altaïr.

“The Mentor is in his old chamber” told him the guard who looked way too young to stand there with a sword, but that was just another thing that troubled him. He raised his eyebrows at the title, but stayed silent and made his way to Altaïr. He didn’t bother with knocking, just barged into the room, but stopped after a few steps.

“Leave me” Altaïr’s voice came from behind a pile of books and papers on his desk. Malik’s eyes swept the small room quickly. The bed was gone, a bunch of pillows and a blanket were all the indication that someone was using the room for something else beside just work. Most of the space was taken up by the table. Books and scrolls also laid everywhere on the floor seemingly without any order.

“I expected some disarray on my return, but this is a new low, even for you, novice.” Altaïr looked up at him, relief visibly spreading through his features. His hood was down for a change, leaving out his ruffled brown hair.

“Malik,” he was up and walking to him in a heartbeat, knocking down some books from the table, but he didn’t even seem to notice it. In the next second Malik found himself in a tight embrace which he returned after a surprised moment. “Welcome back, my friend.”

“Thank you.” Malik said surprising even himself with it. He still felt the warmth even after the Assassin stepped back. He looked around in the room for a distraction. “I'm not sure this is an ideal arrangement for work. Why didn't you claim the Master's rooms?” He regretted his words as soon as he said them out loud and he saw Altaïr's face fell.

“I couldn't... I just can't” was all that Altaïr could muster up and Malik didn't push. “But I made arrangements, I just didn't have the time to actually act upon them. And I made some for you too.” Malik raised his eyebrows questioningly. “You didn't actually think I let you go back to Jerusalem again? You are staying here and help me deal with this mess.” He threw his hand out gesturing around in the room.

“As you wish, Mentor.” Malik said the title with just a bit of mocking trying to hide his amused smile and Altaïr answered with a little groan.

“Please, not you too. I do not wish to have that title.”

“Well, obviously you are the one who leads the Brotherhood now.”

“I’m just doing what needs to be done to keep the Order from falling apart.”

“That’s another way to say it.” It was amusing to see the other man’s irritation rise.

“It does not matter. What matters that all this doesn’t make any sense.” He indicated the papers all over the room with an angry gesture. “We could sort out the documents about the trading, we have the necessary supplies coming in again, but the people from the town are still reluctant to work with or for us and I can’t really blame them. But it’s working for now. But the missions…” he was pacing in the room, becoming more and more agitated. “So much is missing, lot of the contracts are encrypted. We lost most of our scholars, I asked the rest to sort through what we have and break all the codes. We even get reports from such places no one knew we had connections with.” He ruffled his short hair and took a calming breath, but obviously it didn’t really help.

“It’s a mess.” Malik commented while he looked at all the papers on the desk.

“It’s not a mess, it’s a nightmare.” Altaïr stepped up next to Malik and looked at the books with a lost expressing on his face. “But then again, in the moment I start feeling despair, you appear, my friend to aid me.” He wore an uncharacteristic grin on his face which spread even more when he got an unimpressed look from Malik. “Tell me of your journey.”

“You won’t like it” said Malik with a sigh.

“I guess I won’t, but I do not care. I need to get out of here. I could barely leave this room for days now.” He sounded tried and angry again.

“Really now?” Asked Malik amused while he leaned forward to take something stuck at Altaïr’s belt. The Assassin froze and didn’t move until Malik pulled back to hold something in front of his face. Hay.

“I did say barely, didn’t I?”

“What would all the Assassins say if they know their new Master likes to sneak out from work?” That earned him a glare, Malik's only replay was a raised eyebrow, and when he didn't get a replay he continued: “We can talk, but first I'd like to get rid of the dust from myself. You also could tell me what happened here. I heard there was trouble as soon as I left you here.”

“Trouble,” Altaïr frowned, looking out of the window. “More like another stage of the nightmare that began when we set foot in Solomon's Temple.”

“I will be back shortly.” Malik said and headed for the door, leaving his friend lost in his thoughts. He never saw Altaïr like this before, so focused, the responsibility obviously heavy on his shoulders, but he still stood strong. The Brotherhood will be in good hands.

***

 

Malik entered the room, eyes sweeping over and he frowned when he found it empty. It was a few days since he could finally harass Altaïr enough to make him move his belongings to the newly prepared rooms. It had more space for his desk and had some shelves for the books. There was also a smaller room next to it, separated by a curtain with an actual bed and place for his personal belongings. It was much more suited for his work as Master. Malik was told that Altaïr was here, did he sneak out again through the window? Malik resisted the urge to sigh; he really did not feel like hunting down their dear Mentor through the entire castle again. He was about to leave when he heard some noise from the bed chamber. The curtain was open, so Malik headed there. He found Altaïr sitting in the centre of a mess of...

“Are those flags?” He blurted out startling the Assassin. He jumped to his feet, spinning around to face him and stepping up to Malik, forcing him to back out of the doorway.

“Malik, I didn't hear you” was that really accusation in his voice?

“Why do you have... Where those really...?” he wanted to step aside the Assassin to have a better look with a mocking grin forming on his face, but Altaïr shoved him away.

“It's none of your business.” Malik had to take a few steps back so he won't lose his balance. He stared at his friend stunned. He knew that look and that tone. Altaïr used it on those who questioned his authority. Malik felt a sudden stab of pain to be on the receiving end of that look again. The last time he saw it, it was in Solomon's Temple. He forced a blank expression on his face and bowed his head.

“Forgive me, Mentor. I forgot my place.” He turned to leave, but after a few steps Altaïr called after him.

“Malik, wait...” his voice was softer now, so Malik stopped, but did not look back.

“We all have to show respect toward the Mentor, even me. It won't happen again.”

“No, I didn't mean to... just give me a moment.” Malik slowly turned back to see Altaïr rubbing his face with his hands and breathing in and out deeply before speaking again.

“You startled me.”

“I could tell.” Malik answered carefully when the Assassin stayed silent.

“I'm sorry. It's just kind of...” he run out of words again and just stepped aside and gestured Malik to the room. The man looked at the Assassin wearily, but Altaïr fixed his gaze on the wall in front of himself. Malik walked to the doorway looking at the mess of fabrics on the floor. He recognised the Jerusalem cross on some of the flags, and saw some red ones with the Saracen's symbol on it. There were red Templar crosses and also the Hospitalier's white ones. He even saw one Assassin flag, but considering, that he could count at least five from each, most likely there were more. Malik looked back at Altaïr questioningly, who was now standing beside him also looking at the flags.

“They sparkled” he said quietly and Malik felt the frown deepen on his face.

“They did what?” Altaïr chuckled glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

“I was joking. They were everywhere in the cities, it pissed me off, but I think I was just angry about anything and everything at that time. So I started to take them down while I was on the missions Al Mualim sent me. Not that taking down their flags would weaken the enemy's hold on the city, but it still felt good to do it. I thought I’d keep some, as some reminiscence, a reminder.”

“I could understand that. To keep some, but I can count at least eight from King Richard's flags...”

“It became a habit?” Altaïr more like asked with a hesitant smile on his lips. Malik stared him for a second then couldn't helped it, he laughed.

“Right” he shook his head. “What do you want to do with them?”

“I don't know yet.” He looked like suddenly even he himself didn’t know why he had them in the first place. Malik had to try really hard no to laugh out again.

“Fine, need help with tidying them up?”

“No, unless you're offering. I'm not sure I could explain it to anyone else.” Malik felt his breath stuck in his lungs, and forced himself to exhale; glad, that Altaïr wasn't looking at him. Why did it still struck him with surprise when Altaïr showed him something he didn't want others to see? And why did he felt somehow happy about it?

“Not now, I’m afraid. You are also needed elsewhere. Actually that's why I came to you in the first place. We got the reports most of the cities now. You have decisions to make.”

“I'll never finish organizing my things, if this goes on like this.”

“No wonder, if you spend all this time musing over every single belonging of yours.” That earned him a half-hearted glare from the Assassin, but Malik could see an amused spark in his eyes. “Just come to the library when you're finished. Today would be preferable.”

“I'll try my best.” Malik answered Altaïr's smug smile with a smirk of his own and left his friend to his memories.

***

 

Malik was sitting on the cushions with the book in his lap. His hand covered his face, wiping away unwanted tears that escaped from his eyes time to time. When the door burst open and Altaïr marched into his room speaking enthusiastically he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to them, breathing in and out slowly. He couldn't focus on what Altaïr was talking about; he was busy trying to swallow through the lump that formed in this throat. Altaïr fell silent after a time when he didn't get any reaction from Malik and slowly lowered himself beside his friend.

“Did something happen?” He asked hesitantly. Malik wiped his face again, but it did not make any difference, Altaïr already saw. He did not look at the Assassin, just handed him the book from his lap.

“I found this today. It was well hidden in the Master's chamber.” Altaïr opened the small leather bound book with a confused expression on his face. His eyes went wide after he read some of the pages.

“It's a journal... It's Al Mualim's journal.” He looked up at Malik with shock in his eyes.

“It was under a lose brick in the wall, a novice cracked it a bit accidentally while moving all the boxes out. If you'd have just moved in as everyone expected you to, not ordering to empty the room, we'd have never found it.”

“And you read it.” It wasn't a question.

“Some of it.” Malik fell silent and Altaïr waited for him to continue. “He knew he won't return.” He said in a quiet voice and looked at the other and Altaïr almost recoiled from the anger he saw in Malik's eyes. “He knew you'll do something stupid, so he sent us with you as meat-shield. To be cut down by the Templars while you can get the Treasure. He was most surprised that I was the one, who returned with the Apple. If he'd have known I had such potential, too bad it was mostly spoiled...” he clenched his jaw and looked away. Altaïr was speechless beside him. He hesitantly raised his right arm to place his hand on Malik's shoulder; when he let him he moved closer and put his left hand to the back of Malik's head bringing their foreheads together.

“I'm so sorry, my friend.” He whispered and Malik felt the tears run down his cheeks again. He wasn’t crying, only the tears seemed unstoppable. But he didn't care, because Altaïr's presence was strong and solid beside him, his hand cool on his neck. He decided he could allow himself a few moments of weakness, because it was Altaïr who saw him. He grabbed the other's arm to remind himself there were other things than the anger and hollow pain in his chest.

“Was it all worth? All the lives lost, because of that damned thing.” Malik asked when the tears finally stopped to burn his eyes.

“As long as there is greed in the hearts of humans, there always will be lives lost” answered Altaïr carefully.

“You should destroy it.” Malik raised his head to look at the Assassin, but Altaïr turned his gaze away, his hand still on Malik’s neck, his fingers tightening their hold slightly.

“I can’t. I have been studying it more lately.”

“You did what?” Now he pulled back with an angry stare in his eyes and Altaïr let him. “Have you gone mad?”

“You don’t understand, Malik. It has shown me so much. Images from long lost times and images, I’m sure are coming from the future. If only I could make sense of them, we could use it for good, to give us inspiration, guidance.”

“Do you hear the things coming out of your mouth? Do you think I do not know how many times have the guards found you unconscious in your room with that cursed thing in your hand? The only reason they don’t talk about it is, because I reasoned with them.” Altaïr turned his head away again and fixed his gaze on a spot on the wall.

“I have better control over it now.” He said in a defending tone.

“That’s not the point.” Malik couldn’t stay still any longer, he stood up, but after a few steps he turned back to Altaïr. “What if it corrupts your mind, just like it did with its previous master?”

“You blame Al Mualim’s betrayal on the Apple.” Again it wasn’t a question.

“What else I’m supposed to do? All this madness started with that damn mission.” He touched his left shoulder without even thinking, and saw a shadow cross Altaïr’s eyes so he forced his arm down.

“Malik, he had his plans since long before the Treasure.” Altaïr spoke with a calm tone, but it felt forced ever for himself. “The Apple only speeded them up. He had been using the Assassins as his personal army for years. It was his Templar ideas that made him betray us, the Apple was merely a tool.” Malik knew all this too and it made no difference now anyway, but how could Altaïr not see reason, that the thing was too dangerous? He did not want to argue with Altaïr about this again, or about anything else. His earlier feeling of calm and relief was gone, now he was angry once again. Damn it all. He headed to the door.

“Where are you going? There are things I need to discuss with you.” Altaïr called after him, but Malik only paused for a moment.

“No you don’t, not now.” And he closed the door behind himself. He started to walk in the corridors aimlessly, waiting for his irritation to disappear. He talked to some of the Assassins who he met and watched over the novices’ evening activities. They were less than he remembered, but it could have been worse. Thankfully there were new ones. There were a lot of orphans, after all the fights and Altaïr accepted every one of them who had nowhere else to go. They let people settle down in the town, who wandered in from the nearby towns, chased away by Crusaders or Saracens. Altaïr even let some of them join the Brotherhood. Of course he told everyone to keep a close eye on them, but nevertheless who had a good reason, could join them and in time maybe became an Assassin. Some might see this as naivety, but they certainly needed more men.

Malik went on with his wanderings, avoiding any places he might run into Altaïr and ended up at the training area in front of the castle. It was late in the night, but he felt he could not sleep even if he tried to. He saw some of the training equipment lying around and made a note to himself to make sure Rauf hears about it. He picked up one of the wooden swords, trying its weight and balance. He had a hard time to remember, what it was like, when they used these. Those kinds of thoughts always brought him back to Kadar and he really didn’t need the memory of his brother at that moment. Well, thinking didn’t help him bring peace to his mind, maybe some exercise might. He stripped down to a shirt and trousers and put his robes on one of the dummies. He picked up a short sword and stood to the centre of the sparring field. He started with slow movements to warm up his muscles, he couldn’t even remember if he had a blade in his hand since the attack. He needed more practice, still sometimes his balance was off, it was fine with a short weapon, but he couldn’t wield a sword as well as he used to. At that point he was breathing more quickly and forced his brain to stop thinking, and let the movements flow on their own.

There was a tinkling at the edge of his focus suddenly, and he knew he wasn’t alone any more. He spun around with raised weapon in time to see Altaïr land at the edge of the field.

“Why can’t you walk, like everyone else?” Malik relaxed his muscles and thought about leaving. He wasn’t angry any more, but that did not mean he wanted to talk to the other man.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Altaïr leaned on the fence with a grin. “Need a real opponent?”

“If you think, letting me punch you will make me agree with you, you are greatly mistaken.” Still it might be satisfying to some degree, so he stayed there, looking at Altaïr challenging. “But if you want a beating so bad, who am I to stop you?” Altaïr’s grin turned into a smirk and he quickly got rid of his robes, he even pulled off his shirt and chose a long knife from the pile of training weapons on the ground.

“I’ll go easy on you.” He hopped over the fence and stood in front of Malik two meters or so away.

“Did _you_ choose today for the quest to make me angry with yourself or is it just a coincidence?” Malik was starting to lose his patience with him again already, all this reminded him too much of the old Altaïr. The Assassin seemed to realise that too, because the smirk disappeared from his face.

“I’m sorry; I’m not trying to… I’m sorry about earlier too…” Malik didn’t let him finish it. With a quick step he moved forward and made a low cut, which Altaïr parried easily. No more apologies.

“How about you start using your blade instead of your mouth?” A little smile tugged the corner of his lips and Malik let it, making Altaïr smirk back at him.

“As you wish!” And he attacked. It felt different. So different from training alone, but also so different from fighting an enemy. Most of whom Malik faced grew overconfident when they saw his missing arm, but not Altaïr. They knew each other well, and used that knowledge, even though Altaïr missed some openings in Malik’s defence, which an enemy would have not. Malik couldn’t find the energy in himself to feel irritated about it, especially because those earned the Assassin bruises more severe than the rest. Still, it was a nice sparring, it felt good. But he was getting tired and again he found himself on his back with Altaïr above him. He was sitting on Malik’s thighs now, because earlier he got a nice kick to his back for trying the same. He had Malik’s arm pinned to the ground and his knife at his throat.

“Surrender… infidel.” The second word came out with a breathless laugh as Altaïr tried to catch his breath.

“You were just dying to throw that one at someone instead of being shout at, weren’t you?” Malik’s chest was also rising and falling quickly as he waited his heartbeat to calm down. He felt the cold slowly seep from the ground into his overheated body through his wet clothes. Altaïr just grinned at him as he let go of his arm and sat back wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Are you comfortable there?” Malik asked with some irritation in his voice.

“Just enjoying the view.” The other smirked at him again, his eyes roaming down Malik’s body then back to his face. Malik had to swallow before he could make his retort.

“Of course you are. Now, get off me.” With a smooth movement Altaïr swung to the side and sat down next to Malik. He offered his hand, which he accepted and let his friend pull him in a sitting position. “Anyway, what was so important that you had to plunge into my room like some wild animal?”

“Most can wait; I just wanted you to know, that another one of our brothers has returned. The news are spreading that I did not punish those who rebelled against me, maybe even more will come back in time.”

“It might have been a good decision, but I'm still wary of them.”

“We need every man, Malik.”

“I know, but you should not forget, that they turned against you once.”

“You really all think me that stupid? Why do you think I keep them here instead of sending them off to missions or even if I do, never alone? Why I won't ask them to work with the novices? I know what I'm doing. I would have expected more trust, especially from you.” Now he was angry. Malik could only blink, he was speechless for a moment, then placed his hand on Altaïr's shoulder.

“I'm sorry, my friend. We all seem to forget how much you have changed.”

“This is not what I expected my life to become, but I'm trying. For the Brotherhood, for all of us.”

“I know. I see it every day.” Malik looked at him with a small smile, which Altaïr returned. “I still think you let Abbas off too lightly.”

“The Apple almost destroyed his mind. He was in a delirious state for days. As were many others. And not everyone woke up from it.” The Assassin sighed heavily. “I think that was punishment enough. I still have hope, that someday he’d let go of his hate.”

“For that I can't decide if I should call you naïve or a fool.” Altaïr barked out a laugh.

“Come on, Malik, don't be such a pessimist. You cannot hold grudges forever, it will eat your soul. He has to realise that eventually.”

“Then let just pray that your hope will not destroy us.” Despite his dry tone a smile tugged the corner of Malik's lips and Altaïr huffed out an amused snort.

“You see things too darkly, my friend.”

“I just stand on the ground with both of my feet. Somebody has to.” That earned a real laugh from the Assassin.  Altaïr turned a bit so he could rest his forehead on the other's shoulder.

“Thank you, brother. For everything. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“I do, you'd be dead in Solomon's Temple.” Malik felt almost surprised how easy it was to say it out loud and the remnants of the pain was lifted from his chest by another of Altaïr's chuckle. He didn't even remember when was the last time he saw the Assassin in such a high spirit.

“You might be right.” They fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying the tiredness in their bodies and each other's company. Sometime later Malik patted Altaïr's head to make him move.

“Come; let us go inside, it's cold in here.”

***

 

Malik looked at the pile of papers on his desk, that all demanded his attention and resisted the urge to sigh. He'd need again another pair of hands and eyes, who could sort those for him. It would go so much faster, if he didn't need to read every single one of them, but until he got someone to do it for him, he had no other choice. He was reading the second letter when there was a commotion outside of his door, with noises of running feet. He prayed whatever it was about they could solve it without him, but his hopes were shattered when there was a loud knock on his door.

“Yes,” he called, but did not put down the paper from his hand. A guard came in breathing heavily.

“I'm truly sorry to bother you, _Dai_ , but there came an urgent message and the Master disappeared. Nobody saw him leave his room, but he's not there.” Malik did sigh this time. When will these people learn? Just because Altaïr didn't leave his room through the door, it does not mean he disappeared.  And you wonder where those rumours came from, the Mentor being a sorcerer.

“What message?” He asked the guard, who put it on the table in front of him. He rolled out the scroll and stared at the paper. Encrypted. But it was their own, so after a few adjustments he could read it as it was normal writing. He frowned. “Get me the best archer you can find in the castle and send him to the garden.” He told the guard, and took out a piece of paper and started writing.

“An archer, to what end?”

“Now!” Malik barked at the man and he bowed his head and left the room. Malik rolled up the message again and placed it within a stack of other scrolls, out of sight. He took the piece of paper and left for the garden. The castle was in uproar, he even had to make a few stop to calm down his brothers, before some foolish rumour would spread again. Stupid Altaïr, again finding the best moment to sneak out to slack off. When he reached the garden the archer was already there, he recognised the man, but his name escaped his mind, no matter how hard he tried to remember.

“ _Dai_ ” greeted him the man.

“Safety and peace, brother.” Malik gestured to him to follow and looked up to study the castle. When he found what he was looking for he pointed up and asked: “Do you see that area next to that pillar?” The man looked up narrowing his eyes than looking back at Malik.

“There's nothing there.”

“I did not ask about that, do you see it or not?”

“I do” answered the archer with a frown.

“Left from there, there are some loose bricks, you see?” The other man only nodded this time. “Can you hit it, that some might fall of?” The man's frown deepened, but Malik just stared at him with an expectant look on his face.

“I can.” Malik nodded.

“Perfect; an arrow, please.” The bowman took out one from his quiver and handed it to Malik, who knotted the piece of paper on it and gave it back to the archer. The man placed it on his bow, took a deep breath, draw the string and with a slow exhale he released the arrow. It went exactly where Malik wanted it, causing a little cloud of dust, but nothing else happened. “That was remarkable.” He praised the man. “Thank you, brother, you can leave.” And he left the confused man standing in the garden and staring upward.           

It should not take long, he thought to himself and he was right. Not long after he returned to his room a moderately agitated Altaïr jumped in through his window.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He waved the broken arrow in front of Malik's face angrily.

“I doubt even that arrow could penetrate that thick skull of yours.” Malik had to turn away to hide his smirk when he saw the dust on Altaïr’s shoulder. “Would you have more liked it if I told them about one of your favourite hiding places?” He only got a glare as an answer and this time he didn't hide the smug expression on his face, but it all disappeared when he took out the message. “Besides, it's important.” He handed the paper to Altaïr who rolled it out and started reading. “The Templars are on their move in Acre, but we already knew that. However there were rumours of some Artefact that they seek. Altaïr, we can no longer ignore them.” Altaïr finished reading through the message and cast a troubled look at Malik.

“I know, maybe I have already waited for too long, but we needed this time too.” He seemed to make up his mind. “Send for Jabal and a message to Acre, that we are coming. I'll make all the other necessary preparations for the journey.”

“What of the Brotherhood, while you are away?” Malik asked him.

“I'll leave it in the most capable hands. Or hand, in this case.” He said with a small smile. Malik thought that before all this, he’d have felt some pride to be entrusted with such task, but now he felt more wariness than pride. Somehow he saw this coming. For a long moment Altaïr looked at his friend. “I do not know what I will find there or how long this may take...”

“Worry yourself over your own task. I will keep everything in shape for you; just don't get yourself killed while chasing Templars.”

“Thank you, Malik.” Altaïr put his hands on his friend's shoulders, squeezing them shortly, then slid his left hand to Malik’s neck and leaned forward to place a kiss on his mouth. Just the barest touch of lips then he was gone with a smile. Malik just shook his head fondly and sat back to his desk. They had a lot of work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then Cyprus happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Malik was leaning on his table while reading a letter. He didn't bother himself with sitting down to his desk, since he was sure, something will require his presence again shortly. It had been going on all day. When there was a loud and short knock on his door, he said 'yes' without even looking up from the letter and the door was opened even before the word was fully out of his mouth.

“ _Dai_ Malik,” Malik looked up at the excited voice of the guard in time to see as a hand was placed on the man's shoulder and someone else entered the room.

“You picked a fine time to arrive,” he put down the letter and took a few steps to greet his friend with a smirk on his face.

“So it seems” said Altaïr as he embraced the other man. Malik did notice how Altaïr turned his head to his neck and inhaled deeply before he let him go, but did not comment on it. “And I did not come alone.” He half turned back to the door and extended his hand. “Malik, this is Maria. My wife.” Malik felt his eyebrows rise in surprise, but he was able to stop any other reaction.

“Finally I get to meet Malik Al-Sayf.” She stepped beside Altaïr and she bowed her head. “I've heard a lot about you.”  Malik looked at the woman, who wore a fine _abaya_ and a veil on her head as it was proper, but even the clothes could not hide who she was. Her posture, the way she met Malik’s eyes would have been enough, even without considering her accent. Malik had no doubt, that she was de Sable's 'lioness' as Altaïr called her once. In his short letters the Assassin did mention, that he crossed her paths in Cyprus, but this...

“I think I heard about you too” he returned the respectful bow with his head and caught Altaïr's warning look. She raised one of her eyebrows.

“Is that so?” When she gazed at her man Altaïr's face was neutral again. Malik stopped the smirk that tugged the corner of his lips and turned to the Assassin instead.

“We barely heard a word from you for almost a year now; I think you have some explaining to do. But before that...” Malik turned back to his desk, picked up a quill to write quickly something at the end of the letter he was reading and handed the paper to the guard who still stood by the door.  “Take this to Amir, quickly. And send someone in with tea.” The man bowed his head, took the letter and left.

“We were travelling, I'll tell you all about it, but first: what is all the commotion about in the castle?”

“We have a celebration tonight.” Malik gestured to them to follow him to the next room where they could sit down.

“What's the occasion?” Altaïr didn't miss the shadow that crossed Malik's face.

“It's the last chance to celebrate for some of us. Because tomorrow, we're going to march into a war.”

***

 

“It is good to see them like this.” Malik nodded in agreement to Altaïr’s quiet words.

“From time to time you have to remind yourself that you are living and not just staying alive.” They spent most of the afternoon talking, Altaïr spoke of his findings in Cyprus and his eastern journeys after that. He didn't talk about Maria much, just at one point he started to use 'we' while he was talking. Malik had to admit, that the man had changed some again. There was a new determination in his eyes, that Malik was sure Maria had some part in it. Interesting. After that Malik told them about how the changes Altaïr left for them to make in the Order progressed and in more detail about the menace they were facing now. For the rest of the evening they exchanged plans for the next day's attack and argued about them. Altaïr did not like the idea of Malik leading the Assassins out alone, but now that the Mentor had returned it was him who had to stay behind. He disliked that even more.

Now they were sitting on a bench in the garden in relative calm, looking over the Assassins and people from the town singing and dancing.

“I don't even remember when the last time I took part in a feast like this was.”

“Me neither. The town had its own festivals, but usually it was us, who did not participate.”

“Why was that?” Maria asked. She didn't seem to pay attention to them, but Malik thought he should have known better.

“When we were young we weren't allowed, after that I thought it was just a waste of time.” Altaïr looked uncomfortable under Maria's gaze as she raised her eyebrow at him. “That was before... everything changed and since that we didn't have the time or the opportunity.”

“Well, isn't that perfect then.” She said with a wide smile on her face. Altaïr looked at her with narrowed eyes.

“What is?”

“You can teach me that dance.” Altaïr almost dropped his cup from his hand. Malik tried his best to hide his amusement.

“You want me to teach you _dabke_?” His tone was almost shocked and it made Maria smile even more.

“Why of course, it was you, who said that I should learn more about your ways, my love.”

“Yes, but I didn't mean...”

“What, you don't know how to dance?”

“Of course he does know.” Said Malik before Altaïr could make a response. His head whipped to Malik's direction and he glared at him with such fire that would have melted stone, but Malik just smiled at the Assassin. “You have to learn a lot of things to become a Master Assassin.”

“Well then,” she stood up and looked at his husband expectantly. Altaïr looked up at her then turned back to Malik. He grabbed a fist full of the other's clothes and brought their faces close together.

“You will pay for this.” He hissed, but Malik only grinned at him.

“As you wish, Mentor.” Altaïr let go of him, stood up and strode away. Malik caught Maria's eyes as she turned to follow the Assassin and she winked at him. He watched them amused as Altaïr showed the movements slowly to Maria. He said something, that earned him a glare from his wife, but it was shortly replaced with a smile. Altaïr slid way too easily into the role of a teacher. He might not realise that, but now Malik thought he was born to lead, to guide. The whole line stopped for a few moments when they joined, the people weren't used to something like this, everyone exchanged confused looks, but then Altaïr took the place of the leader and the dancing started again. As if this was all the encouragement they needed, other Assassins also joined the dance or the singing. This was a good thing. Let the men saw their Master as he really was, not just as a leader and a warrior, but also as a man. Malik didn’t even try to stop the found smile forming on his face.

***

 

Dawn came with a cool wind from north. The town was mostly still asleep; the only noise came from the stables, where the Assassins prepared for riding out. Malik idly stroked his horse’s nose and watched over the others. He already sent out their scouts just to be sure, even if it was impossible for them to move out unnoticed. The best they could do was to try to hide their exact numbers. The enemy’s camp wasn’t far, but they’ll have to stop around noon for a few hours because of the heat. One would think, the late spring is nice in the mountains, but the heat could easily get stuck between the narrow passages, tiring out man and animal both. Besides they needed some rest and had to time their arrival carefully. He was pulled out of his thinking by someone stopping beside him.

“And what do you think you’re doing here?” He looked at Altaïr with a frown as he bound a small sack to his saddle.

“I’m coming with you.” He held up his hand to stop Malik from protesting. “I have an idea. Give me five of your men who’re good with the bow and one hour head start. We will take a different route and take down their scouts and guards on the way. They will know we’re coming, but not from which way, or how many of us.”

“And how exactly will you find them?”

“I already know where they are.” The question of how was on the tip of Malik’s tongue when an angry voice called out Altaïr’s name behind them.

“When will you ever learn, that sneaking out of the room and leaving me behind will not make me agree with you, Assassin.” Maria almost hissed the last word and glared at the man, who hid his face behind his hood with pretended coyness. Malik caught the small smile on Altaïr’s lips and sent a questioning look at the woman. She wore a light coloured tunic and a brown travelling cape with some basic leather armour pieces. “I’m coming with you.” She said with finality in her voice.

“What about everyone else, about the castle?” Malik asked, although he already knew it was pointless to argue with them. But no one could say he didn’t try.

“We will be gone for two days. They manage themselves without us for that long.”

“And if we don't return?” There was always the possibility of that.

“We will.” Altaïr said and looked at him with such certainty in his eyes, that Malik felt himself believing it.

“If you say so, Mentor.” He gave a small mocking bow, and turned his attention to the other Assassins when Maria stepped beside his husband. Altaïr touched their foreheads together and they spoke quietly for a few moments. Meanwhile Malik sent a novice to gather the five bowmen for Altaïr. The Master addressed them as soon as they gathered around him.

“Brothers, I have a very important task for you and I need you to follow me. I will tell you exactly what I need from you on our way. But we must be careful. We must be the shadow of the eagle on the field. We must be the wind blowing through the mountains. Fast and quiet. A lot depends on our success today, the lives of our brothers and the safety of this town, of your people. But remember, it is not vengeance we seek. We only seek peace and whoever disturbs this peace will face us. The Assassins.” Now every eye was on him and Malik could see the same determination on every face that he felt. He even saw a little smile on Maria’s face. “Get ready.”

The men around them moved at the same time, all placed their right fists to their hearts. “Yes, Master” and darted to their horses.

“Quite a speech. I’m not waiting here an hour for you though, so you better move out soon.” He got a grin as a response while Altaïr walked up to him.

“Don’t be late.”

“It is me who’s worried about you falling off a cliff and breaking your neck.” Malik got another grin then Altaïr embraced him tightly.

“Take care, my friend.”

“You too.” They let go of each other after Altaïr kissed Malik’s cheek lightly and he mounted his horse to join the men waiting for him at the gate. “Did he even consider staying behind at all?” He asked mostly from himself while he watched the men depart, his cheek felt warmer than it should have been, but he ignored it with everything he had in himself.

“Of course he did.” Malik looked up surprised when Maria spoke up behind him. “Even if he didn’t like the plan he was convinced that you will succeed.” He turned to the woman whom eyes still where on the leaving forms.

“What changed?” She pursed her lips together. “He used the Apple, didn’t he?” Maria just looked at him, but it was all the confirmation he needed. “That cursed thing.” He gritted out.

“Yes, but he’s convinced it can be used for good. He talks some about what he learned from it. I’m also starting to see that it might aid us in the right hands.”

“And you think his are those right hands?” Malik didn’t even try to hide the doubt from his voice. To his surprise Maria chuckled.

“No, and neither does he. But still he’s the best choice that I saw so far.” She gave him a sad smile and turned to her horse. “We should leave. I’m to stay by your side, was the Mentor’s order.”

“Fine,” Malik answered while he mounted his horse. “I mean no disrespect, but I don’t know neither you, nor your ability in combat.” Maria nodded at him in understanding while she moved beside Malik with her horse.

“I know I’m something unknown to you, which is a risk in battle, but I’m no liability. I can take care of myself.”

“Good. Just don’t get in the way of others while doing so.”

“Your tongue is really just as sharp as Altaïr said.” Despite her words she had a little smile on her face. Malik huffed out a small laugh.

“He can only blame himself for those experiences.” That made Maria chuckle again and Malik allowed a smile to himself before he turned to his men. “We’re leaving.”

***

 

It was late in the afternoon when they reached their goal, just as they planned. The shadows became longer and longer with every minute, giving them more places to hide. They left their horses behind and continued to approach the camp on foot on the last tree kilometres. Malik sent the Assassins to scatter around the camp. They didn’t saw any of the men Altaïr left with, but neither did they meet any of their enemies, so they should be somewhere out there.

“We can’t wait for them, we have to move.” Malik said to Maria when one of the Assassins came back to report him, that there was still no sign of Altaïr. “They surely know already, that we’re coming, we cannot give them more time to prepare.” Maria looked grim, but she nodded. “Remember to stay out of sight as long as you can.” The camp was in an open field with high cliffs behind it. Not easy to approach undetected, but not impossible for an Assassin. Malik could see lot of movements in the camp from where he was hiding, no doubt they were alerted, had to know something was wrong. They needed to act fast, and for the others to get close he needed their enemy's attention on something else. So Malik chose the camp’s nearest side where he could see three guards and made his way to it. He had a hard time to recall the last time he did this, but his body remembered everything. The guards were on high alert, but they were also nervous. They gazed around too frequently, anxiously looking for any movement. It was true, that they managed to kill almost twenty Assassins in the last weeks, but those poor souls were ambushed and hunted down on the roads while travelling. Now the Assassins were coming for them. From time to time Malik saw how the other Assassins averted the enemy’s attention from each other, so they could move further. When he was some twenty metres from the guards Malik moved out from the shadows and walked up to them like he had every right to be there.

“Assassin!” Shouted one of the men, when he noticed Malik and they drew their swords after a shocked moment. “There’s an Assassin here!”

“I bring a message to your leader.” He said in a firm tone.

“Our Master has no business with your kind, Assassin.”

“Let me through, there’s no need to spill more blood today.” First there was confusion on their faces then Malik could see the moment when realisation hit them. There was no reason to pretend that they spared the guards on their way here.

“Bastards” spat one of the men and he swung his sword to cut Malik down, but he just stepped aside to avoid the attack and the next moment the guard dropped his sword as an arrow stuck into his arm. He let out a painful cry and the other two looked around nervously.

“Let me trough.” Malik repeated without taking his eyes from the men. Behind the guards he saw others starting to pay attention to them. Good. But not good enough. When the two soldiers just exchanged uncertain looks, Malik simply walked past them. This was the part none of them liked: Malik going in alone. Of course he was not alone, even if he could not see them, he knew his brothers were there and would defend him, if necessary. He walked past every single man, quickly scanning the camp and stopped at the clearing in the middle. He saw how all the archers around the camp readied their bows; some even drew the string with an arrow aiming at him. All the other soldiers stayed clear of their aim.

“I'd have word with the leader.” For a moment or two the whole camp was still then an ordinary looking man with brown hair in unmarked armour approached him from the left. If he was that 'Master' he didn't look like one, but Malik was no fool to let appearance deceive him. He turned to the man, who had a grim look on his face.

“If this isn't the half armed man himself, who plays leader while their Mentor is missing.” Malik only gave an unimpressed eyebrow rise to the insult. If he didn't know his friend, he would call Altaïr foolish for even thinking they could solve this without bloodshed. Maybe he did just that at some point during their arguments yesterday. His musing was interrupted by Altaïr landing a couple of meters away from him. From where he could not tell, and by the surprised gasps from the soldiers around them neither could they.

“I was travelling, not missing.” He walked to Malik and stood on his left side. More and more men from the camp were gathering around them, their hand on the hilt of their sword. But the more distracted they were by them the less attention they paid to their surroundings.

“Look at this, men.” The leader stretched his lips to an ugly smile. “Fortune gave us the two headed snake itself, saving us the trouble to look for it.”

“I will give you one chance to leave.” Altaïr said in an impassive voice. Malik saw how the man's mouth twitched when all his provocation were met with indifference. “If you value your men's life, you should take it.”

“My men's lives belong to our cause. And that cause needs your kind wiped off the face of this world.” The resolved calm in his tone was more worrying than hate or any other emotion would have been.

“Templars” Malik whispered and caught Altaïr's little nod. They weren't mere soldiers from the remnants of the Crusaders' army then. That explained how it took the Assassins so much time to find them.

“My Lord! We found her lurking around the camp.” That made them all glancein the direction of the voice. Malik saw Altaïr's shoulder stiffen as two guards dragged Maria to them. Well, Malik was surprised she even got this close to the camp undetected, but judging from the way how she struggled more, than Malik would expect from her and the little movements he saw behind them, maybe there was more to it. He caught a small smile on Altaïr's lips too.

“Unhand me!” She demanded when the guards shoved her to Malik's other side. The leader smiled his ugly smile again looking at the woman.

“If I was a believer I would think the heavens favour me today. Not just with the heads of the heretics, with a traitor too. “

“Hector.” So they did know each other, or at least of each other. It would have been nice to know something about their enemy beforehand, Malik thought, but it would not have changed much anyway. Malik expressed his concern about the enemy recognising her to Maria on their way here, but she just shrugged and said the Templars were accusing her of siding with the Assassins ever since Altaïr spared her life. “You cannot betray what already abandoned you.”

“Such a nice way to put it. After you fell out of Robert's bed, you thought you try your luck in a different one on the other side?” That came from a blond man behind the leader. He barked out a laugh along with some others from the crowd. He must have been a lieutenant or something.

“If you really think that's how I achieved my rank, why not try your luck with my blade?” She answered with striking calm. The man moved to step closer, but Hector put up a hand and stopped him.

“I have to say I'm surprised to see you here, not to mention in what company.”

“I have my eyes opened.” She told him firmly.

“To what? We always have known the cause we are fighting for. Peace and order.”

“By robbing the people of their choices and yoking their minds.” Maria couldn't keep the disgust out of her voice.

“How else?” This response left her stunned. “Have you ever walked among the people? They know nothing. They have these illusions about what's good for them, what's good for the world. And look what all that caused. Wars, nothing more. If it weren't for you, Assassins we could have claimed the Holy Land for us and freed it already.”

“This Holy Land as you like to call it, was just fine on her own until you Crusaders bought more war upon the lands.” Malik received a glare from almost everyone around them, but he couldn't care less, it was still the truth.

“You really think so, Assassin? How little you know of our world.” Hector shook his head at them.

“We know just as much of your world as you know of ours.” It was almost satisfying to see the anger rise in their enemy's eyes at Altaïr’s words. “But it changes nothing. You have no right to be on this land. You caused us great harm and my patience is running out.”

“You have no idea what you're facing.” Now there was also a treat in his voice. “You started a war you have no chance to win”

“You were betrayed by one of your own. Your kind started it, not us.”

“Yet we're still here facing each other.” He opened his arms indicating their situation. “And will do so, as long as you possess something you should not.”

“No one should possess that cursed thing.” Malik was careful not to look at Altaïr, but he was sure his friend heard the warning in his voice.

“I disagree. And despite your words, you still cling to it and wasting its potential.”

“You say that because you did not see its working” said Altaïr in a grim tone.

“Of course I have. It was magnificent.” There was a spark in Hector's eyes which sealed his fate in Malik's eyes. The man had to die.

“You are mad.” It was Maria who voiced what all of them thought.

“What's wrong with wanting to use a tool that is presented before you?”

“And this is why I cannot let the Templars have it.” Altaïr slowly drew out his sword and everyone tensed around them. This was the signal. Everywhere in the crowd the Assassins pulled their hoods over their heads and the soldiers jerked back from them, some even let out a startled shout as the Assassins made their presence known to them. Not all of them though, some still stayed hidden. “I gave you your choice.”

“You think this will be enough against us?” The Templar swept his gaze around most likely counting the Assassins. “You might have skills, but you are outnumbered and you are still just men.”

“No. We are Assassins.” Altaïr pointed his sword to Hector's neck and there was a faint noise of bowstrings being released and an arrow storm took down the archers standing at the edge of the gathering. Their body didn't even hit the ground when the Assassins attacked.

***

 

The battle wasn't long, but drenched in blood. Hector did not fall easily and even when he finally did by Altaïr's blade it did not matter, some of the soldiers fought to their last breath. After the battle Altaïr sent back a troop to Masyaf immediately with the seriously injured Assassins. For the remaining ones he ordered to bury their dead. Even the Templars.

“They might have been our enemies, but they were still men.” He said. He could see the disdain on some faces, but everyone complied without a word. After that they searched through the camp and took everything they could use. They returned to their horses and decided to spend what remained of the night by a resting place near the road and ride for Masyaf at first light. Malik was sitting on the ground next to a rock and was examining his throwing knives in the faint light of their small camp fire. He just gathered as many as he could after the battle and put them away. He would need to clean them properly, most likely even the holster. Wonderful. He should have tried to rest some, but he never could sleep after a fight since Solomon’s Temple, so he continued to watch over everyone else. With a silent groan Altaïr sat down cross legged next to him and put a small sack into his lap.

“You should sleep.” He told Malik looking at the sleeping forms around them.

“And you should be minding your own matters.” As if Altaïr didn't know why he wasn't sleeping. Malik sighed in annoyance; they were all tired, was that really necessary? He summoned up all his remaining patience. “How's Maria?” He asked to change the topic. She fought well, but got a quite bad hit at some point, they had to move her out of the fight. Altaïr almost begged Malik to stay by her side, because there was no one else he could trust enough to keep her safe. Malik forced those thoughts out of his mind.

“Sleeping. She'll be fine.”

“Good. Are you sure you know what you got yourself into with her?” Altaïr huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

“I don't think so. But that just makes things even more interesting.”

“Lunatic.” He got another chuckle as an answer then they sat in silence for a while.

“Will you let me take a look at your back?” Altaïr looked at him concerned.

“It's nothing serious.” Malik answered annoyed.

“You do realise it's bleeding again? I'd say I don't want you to bleed all over my place, but it's not exactly relevant, so just do me a favour and act like a reasonable adult.” Malik recognised his own words being thrown back at him, and shoot a sombre look at the Assassin. Those words felt like they happened centuries ago.

“You're enjoying this way too much.” He murmured and saw Altaïr grin at him as he turned his back to the other man and started to strip his clothes from his torso. It did hurt, especially when he had to remove his shirt, but Altaïr helped him and started to clean the wound without a word. It was good to feel his presence again; he relaxed under the careful touches. Altaïr even cleaned the dried blood from his back. Malik did not see the point to that, but it felt nice. 

“Try not to reopen it again.” Altaïr said to him as he tied the bandages around Malik's torso.

“I'll do my best, Mentor.”

“Will you ever stop using the word with that tone? Would it be anyone else, it'd be disrespect.”

“But from me, you'll have to endure it, so probably never.” Malik felt the smile spread on his lips and Altaïr huffed out a short laugh too. He grabbed his clothes to pull them on again when Altaïr placed his hand lightly on the bandages, slightly touching skin with his fingertips and dropped his head to Malik's shoulder.

“I think I missed you.” He admitted quietly. Malik sucked in a breath sharply. He knew exactly that he missed his friend; he knew it from how easily he relaxed now next to Altaïr, like he wasn’t able in a long time. But there was no way he’d say that out loud, so he stayed silent. The Assassin turned his head to Malik's neck and inhaled deeply.

“What the heck are you doing?” Malik asked trying to look at the other man.

“You smell like home.” Altaïr raised his head to look at Malik who started to laugh.

“How about you try to sleep some? Obviously you are in need of it.” The Assassin just smiled at him so honestly Malik had to look away.

“Rest well, my friend.” Altaïr said after he stood up.

“You too.” Malik looked up at him with a smile he couldn't stop forming on his face before the other man turned to leave. He draped his robe around himself and felt he might actually be able to do just that.

***

 

Malik was standing before the big window, looking over the Assassins at the training field and on the walls of the caste.

“It’s still too risky.” He told Altaïr who was sitting at the table behind him.

“Then we should send one more man with them. They’ll be able the complete the mission and one can remain to help with the needed reorganization after it.” His voice was strained; this argument had stretched way too long now.

“We will run out of men like this.” Malik narrowed his eyes as he looked up to the too bright sky, trying to summon patience from the blueness.

“Don’t be such a pessimist; this is the only way to expand the Brotherhood. Our situation is not that bad.” And he started to write, Malik could hear the quill’s scratching on the paper.

“Remind me again why I’m even here, if you dismiss everything I say?” Malik turned to look at the other man. After a moment Altaïr twisted in his chair too to look at him stunned. He clenched his jaw angrily then turned back to his writing.

“The reason why you fail to see, that all the orders that come out of this room are a consensus of both our decisions, is beyond me at this point.” Malik opened his mouth to tell the Mentor exactly what he was thinking about that, but nothing came out as he thought back on the last weeks. He had to admit, Altaïr was right. At that moment he was glad, that the other man could not see his face. He opened his mouth again to apologise, but was interrupted by Maria striding up to them.

“Malik,” she greeted him with a nod, which Malik returned and he turned back to the window as she started to stare holes into Altaïr's head. “We need to talk.”

“Maria, please, can we not...”

“We could, but we won't.” She interrupted him. “I am well, and you are not backing out of this conversation again, or I swear to God I'll make Malik hold you down, until you are willing to listen to me.” Now that got his attention. He glanced back over his shoulder at the other two, but they were busy glaring at each other. “I told you; I warned you, that marrying me won't change who I am! If I remember correctly, you said you wouldn't want it any other way. So I came back here with you, and now you're expecting me to do what exactly here?”

“I know and even if you don't believe me, I was thinking about it, but...”

“Of course there is a “but”. I came to the other end of the world just to find that men are still the same.” She placed her hands on the table and leaned on them staring down at the man. Altaïr slowly rose to his full height and Maria did the same as they glared hard at each other.

“I have an idea.” The tension broke and both of them looked at Malik like they completely forgot he was there.

“What idea?” Altaïr asked, the irritation still palpable in his voice.

“Maria, if you'd come with me, so we won't bother the Mentor in his tasks anymore.” He walked to the woman and gestured toward the stairs with his hand. Maria arched a curious eyebrow at him then smiled sweetly at the Master.

“Of course, _Dai_.”

“What idea?” The man asked again more annoyed this time, but was ignored once more as Malik and Maria walked away.

***

 

“Listen well, from today you will have a new teacher for training.” Malik swept his gaze over the gathered novices.

“I am sure most of you already know of her.” He watched amused how confusion ran through almost every face at his words. He gestured to Maria who was leaning on a post nearby. It wasn't an unusual sight, since she wandered a lot in the castle and the town. She liked to watch the trainings, it seemed to amuse her. Now she slowly walked to him with all the confidence and grace that you can only learn among soldiers.

“This is Maria, the wife of our Mentor, Altaïr. You will show her the same respect as to any _Dai_ and will address her as Mistress.”

“I have nothing to learn from an outlandish woman.” The boy, well he was almost twenty, but was still a boy in his eyes, did swallow, when Malik glared at him, but did not back down. That was the problem with letting join all strangers to their ranks. Some lacked a lot of discipline.

“That's too bad, because I have a lot to teach. I think I start with you.” Maria just smiled a cold smile and hopped over the wooden fence of the sparring field. “Get in here boy, or are you afraid I might do harm to you?”

“Do as she says, novice, or I'll find some other chores for you to do for the rest of the day.” Malik agreed not to interfere unless necessary, but he had to make sure the novices took the lesson seriously. With an angry face the boy jumped into the field and glared at Maria stubbornly. Malik picked up the wooden swords Maria previously chose and threw them to the opponents in the field. Both caught it with ease and Maria took up a fighting stance.

“Attack, boy, I promise I’ll go easy on you.” That did the trick, the novice swung his sword, but Maria, instead of meeting the blow, only stepped aside and evaded the attack easily. The boy moved again with a side cut, but Maria parried with her weapon and moved easily, guiding the boy’s sword to the side.

“Is this all? You have to do better than this.” She had a not too nice smile on her face. The boy attacked again, but the woman parried all his blows and stabs and every time she moved out of the way of the attack the boy’s momentum carried him onward, he stumbled a few times and had to move back in order to attack again. He was getting more and more irritated, it was visible on his face and his movements also became more rushed. “Careful boy, if you carry on like this you might fall and poke out your eyes with that thing you have in your hand.” The teasing really did not help, and Malik had to fight to keep a straight face. Maria gracefully evaded every blow hitting the boy just enough to make him feel it. A minute later the novice snapped and throw his whole body into the attack with a raged roar, but Malik decided to interfere before he could reach Maria.

“That's enough.” He snapped loud enough to stop the novice he saw others flinch at his voice too.

“You still think you have nothing to learn from me?” Maria asked in a cocky tone.

“What’s to learn from a coward who does nothing but insults me?” He raised his voice to an almost yell and was panting heavily, compared to Maria who barely broke a sweat.

“Is that really all you saw happening here?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “Is that what you all saw?” She addressed the other novices all around them. They exchanged uncertain looks and stayed silent. Malik felt his frustration rise, but then a young one stepped forward.

“The Mistress evaded the attacks and used them against her opponent. She angered him on purpose, to make his attacks more rushed.”

“Very good.” Maria sent him an approving little smile and Malik also nodded in agreement. “What's your name, boy?” He couldn’t be more then eleven or twelve.

“Fares.” He answered in a steady voice. Maria nodded at him and Malik decided to pay attention to the boy from now on.

“These lessons won’t be about power.” She started to speak to all of them. “You have more than enough from that elsewhere. These lessons will be about keeping your head in a fight. Not to let your anger take over, because that will cloud your judgement. You have to learn to focus, in any situation. And also to prepare you for different opponents. Like me. Besides if you meet an enemy bigger and stronger than you, it does not mean you will be defeated, but you have to learn how to fight against them. Watch my movements, watch the movements of others and learn from them. Next.” She dismissed the boy with a gesture of her hand and looked at the others expectantly. The novice glared at her, but then another young man jumped over the fence and took the training sword from his fellow novice, who sulked out from the ring. The boy gave Maria a respectful bow and took a fighting stance. Maria nodded at him to attack and he did.

Malik stayed for some more time to watch, but eventually strayed from the training area and back to the castle. He found Altaïr half hiding behind a pillar and watching the training with a found smile on his face.

“You thought I would not approve of this? That’s why you did not tell me about it?”

“You want me to believe you wouldn’t have said a word?” He got a telling silence as an answer. “Thought so.” Malik smirked at him as Altaïr hid his face behind his hood. “She’s been watching the novices train for some time; she knows what she can take.”

“And you just let her?”

“The world is changing; we need to be ready for everything.”

“If we are at changes, I have some ideas I want to test. Could you meet me after dark at the castle’s gate?” Malik just raised his eyebrows at him. “I want to know what you think.”

***

 

“This one is trickier than the last one you showed me. You’ll need a lot of practice to really make it work. To be able to make the jump and let it be broken by the victim and not broke your bones. If the timing is right the momentum would be enough to drive the blade in. We still might need to make the steel stronger to withstand it.” Malik said inspecting the drawings on the papers Altaïr gave him.

“Yes, I also thought of that, so we’d be able to fight with the hidden blade too.” The Assassin nodded looking out to the mountains, musing. They were just outside the castle, by the walls. It was a little land by the ravines, only accessible from one direction and abandoned enough for them to be able to talk about things they didn’t want anyone else to hear, but still close to the castle, were they needed at any time. It was night time, their only light a small torch they installed on the wall. “Or even a second one.” Altaïr murmured. Malik looked up to him from where he was sitting by the wall. The other man was pacing up and down at the edge, thinking. “You could get rid of two enemies at the same time if they stand next to each other. What do you think about that?” He looked at Malik.

“You're thinking too fast again.” The man rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers before glancing back up at his friend.

“Sorry. Did you think about the modifications I told you last time?” It became their habit to meet up a few times every week and talk about organizing the Brotherhood, and Altaïr’s new ideas. At the beginning Malik was reluctant to accept them, because they came from the Apple some way or the other, but he had to admit eventually, that they could use them.

“You do realise that you slowly remove everything that defined the Brotherhood so far? Next you say we should get rid of the hood or dye our robes in colours.” He gave an unimpressed look at Altaïr’s smirk.

“Those are not the traits of an Assassin, it is the way we see the world. We were taught to question everything, still we follow customs, because that’s the way out ancestors did it. If a brother had earned the blade through his training is that not dedication enough? Why should they sacrifice even more?”

“Was that how you saw it, when they took your finger? Another sacrifice you had to make?”

“Our life is a sacrifice. And you know exactly what I thought about it at the time. And that’s not the point now. I understand it, but if I can find a way to use the hidden blade without removing a finger, I will choose that. And I’d like to remind you of those who showed their dedication once, still betrayed us later.” Malik just studied his serious expression for a few moments.

“You have a design?” He could see all the reasons behind Altaïr’s words and told himself not to reject anything just because it was something new. The Assassin’s face softened, grateful for the support.

“Not yet.” He walked over to Malik and sat down on this left side, shoulders touching. “But you’ll be the first to know if I do.” He slid down just a bit, half leaning on Malik, head resting on the other’s shoulder.

“You won’t convince everyone so easily, I hope you know that.”

“Yes.” Altaïr answered in a serious tone, but then he craned his neck to look up at Malik. “But I have you as a voice of reason to support me.” The man could hear the grin in Altaïr’s voice even if he wouldn’t have looked down, but he still levelled him with a slightly disapproving look.

“I don’t recall you being such a spoiled brat.” Malik grunted.

“What, you only remember me being an arrogant dick?” Altaïr blurted out, but his grin fell from his face as soon as he realised what he just said and he looked away, body going tense. A heavy silence fell upon them, but it was still better than if Altaïr would have said anything else, trying to placate him, or even worst: apologise. Malik cursed inwardly. Sometimes he could even forget about the demons of their past just to be reminded how easy is it to tear into old wounds. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I do recall that, and I also remember that I told you to make up your mind about who you want to send to Alamut. And no, you can’t go.” He felt Altaïr's body relax beside him, leaning back to Malik again, a steady, and comforting warmth pressed close to his side.

“I could take Maria with me.” Malik already heard the smile in his voice.

“No. I'm not letting you two out of the city gate unsupervised ever again.”

“Why, we were successful last time.” Altaïr inquired, feigning surprise.

“And managed to kill the son of the wealthiest man of Lamasar and after that cut your way out from their citadel.” Malik stated with fake accusation in his voice.

“He was a Templar, he captured our supporters and wanted to kill them, and us too.”

“And you had no other choice than kill him in the middle of their family feast.” Now even Malik had to fight to keep away the smile from his face.

“That might have been a bit rushed.” Altaïr turned his head again to look up at him sheepishly.

“A bit.” Malik agreed with a short laugh. “Anyway, you are going nowhere, neither of you, so you have to choose.”

“Fine, I'll think about it. That aside, I also want Maria to stay in Masyaf from now on.” Malik raised his eyebrows at him curiously. “She's with a child.”

“Congratulations.” He said after a stunned moment with a smile, but Altaïr looked out at the mountains again. “You don't seem happy about it.”

“I am. I...” he fell silent. “I'm confused. I didn't really think about having a family before, even now it seems unreal. I do not remember my father any more, only his death. I'm an Assassin I'm the Master of the Assassins, what have I to give a child? The art of death? A war with the Templars, that I think we won't live long enough to see its end?”

“Are you finished?” Malik asked unaffected when the Assassin run out of words. Altaïr turned his eyes to him again, frowning. “You have to fight through your life, no matter where you are born. Isn't it better to have a cause and the prospect to do something for it? Look me in the eye and say you regret your life as an Assassin. I dare you.”

“We do not know any other life.” Altaïr insisted.

“Have you ever wanted to?” The Assassin seemed to think on it for a moment.

“I don't know.” He responded finally.

“Then why are we having this conversation? You should look forward to it.”

“I do, it's just...” but he fell silent again and sat up, all focused. Malik looked at him questioningly and Altaïr nodded toward the path leading back to the castle. He got up, stalked to the turning and pressed himself to the cliff. The guards usually just shouted down to them from the wall if someone was looking for them, whenever someone sneaked up on them they had ill intent. Malik already had a throwing knife in his hand and watched the darkness in front of Altaïr. They stayed like that for a few seconds, body tense and ready to act. Then Altaïr moved and leaped into the darkness. After a few moments he dragged a cloaked figure into the light and shoved them against the rock. They let out a familiar groan and Altaïr froze for a second. He jerked the cowl off and his eyes widened almost comically.

“Maria!” He snapped.  “I told you not to... Why would you... I could have...” He was angry beyond words, he pressed his lips together not to say anything else and just stared at his wife. Malik let his muscles relax when Altaïr's whole body tensed again. He placed his hands next to the woman's shoulders and hanged his head between his arms, just breathing, trying to calm down. Maria looked at him with such innocence, that Malik was sure she used it to get away with things. It was almost working on him too. It was interesting how she could look so small now next to his man, when they were about the same height.

“I guess I'm still not good enough.” Her voice almost dripped with honey, and Malik saw how it was working on Altaïr, it was a sight to behold.

“You are,” the Master gritted out, voice still strained. “I'm just better.”

“Such humble creatures” Malik murmured amused and stood up while Maria grinned at him. Altaïr raised his head to glare first at him then at his wife, but Maria just continued to smile at him sweetly.

“I was just wondering if I can have my husband back for the rest of the night or I too should seek out other... company.” She glanced at Malik with a lopsided smirk.

“What other...” Altaïr frowned at her. “We were...” But his words got stuck in his throat when Malik slapped the back of his head while he walked past them.

“Don't take the bait, idiot.” He got a confused glare from the Assassin and a knowing smile from Maria. “Good night, you two.”

“Good night, Malik.” They said after one other, but Altaïr turned after him, making Malik stop and look back over his shoulder. “Thank you.” Malik just waved with the papers in his hand and headed back to the castle. When he later looked back he saw the two figures pressed close to each other in the dim light of the torch.

“You have a room for heaven's sake...” He muttered and shaking his head he continued his way to his own chambers.

***

 

Maria walked up to Altaïr's desk in the library and placed a sulky Darim on top of the letter that the Mentor was writing.

“Would you mind to tend to him for a while?” And she walked away without any other word. Malik abandoned his search for a book in order to watch as Altaïr stared at her retreating back for a shocked moment then tried to carefully lift the wriggling baby from the table.

“Maria” he called after the woman, but got no answer. “Where're Dana and Heba?”

“I do not know” her voice came from the bottom of the stairs, and then the only sound was Darim's rising cries. The two men looked at each other, and then Altaïr turned his attention to his son as he tried to rearrange the little boy in his arm, as he saw the women do. Malik had to fight the grin that wanted to take over his features as he watched the Mentor being so careful, as maybe he was never before. He still looked at Darim with such wonder in his eyes, as if he was a miracle. For them, who dealt with death so much, seeing a new life born, maybe it was.

“I'll have someone look for the nurses.” With a sharp turn of the head, Altaïr's eyes snapped over to him.

“Don't you dare to leave me” he snarled, but Malik ignored him.

“It won't take long.” He could feel the amber eyes glaring daggers at his back, but he still walked out of the library smirking. He caught a novice on the corridor and told him to look for the women. They never left both at the same time, so one must be in the castle somewhere.

“Malik” he turned and found Maria sitting on one of the big windowsills.

“Maria, is there something wrong?” He walked slowly to her. She shook her head and turned to look out at the mountains.

“Fate has a funny taste. When I left England I thought I left behind my chance to have a family, and I did not mind it at all. And now here I am.” Malik raised his eyebrows at her. He wasn’t sure he was the one she should have this kind of conversation with, but she definitely wanted something from him, so he played along.

“Do you believe in Karma?” Malik said the word with all the scepticism he felt toward it and Maria also wrinkled her nose a bit at that.

“I never really believed in anything beside myself and neither do your people, so I don’t think I’ll start it now. It’s just seems weird, after everything that happened. When I joined the Templars it seemed I would spend the rest of my life to fight for our cause.”

“Is it not the same what you’re doing right now?” She looked at him and thought on that for a moment.

“Well yes, but me, as a mother? It still seems unreal.” Malik huffed out a short laugh.

“Why is it always me, you people find with these?” He shook his head at Maria’s confused look. “I already had this conversation with our Mentor when he found out you were with child, I’m sorry Maria, but not again. You will do fine, both of you. Still, you should have seen the panic on his face when you left him with Darim earlier.” He chuckled again. Maria studied him for a few moments.

“You love him.” It was a statement and as she said it out loud she realised it’s true. Malik looked away and mused shortly on his replay.

“Yes.” He said eventually looking back at the woman.

“You do realise he loves you too?” She asked almost curiously, but there was a dangerous glow in her eyes.

“We are brothers.” He answered, carefully keeping his face blank.

“Oh, but not like that.” She shook her head with a crooked smile. “I know him as a lover, and I see how he acts with you. He treats you different from others, just you.”

“And?” Malik asked carefully.

“You never wanted… more? Never wanted to have him?” Malik blinked at her, stunned for a moment, but then again, Maria was never a blushing maiden.

“But I already do. I do have him, in a way that no one else ever will. Not even you.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but Malik just stared at her, not backing down. It was the truth after all. At that moment Altaïr appeared on the corridor walking in their way, carefully holding the child.

“I think he might be tired, he’s yawning all the time.” Darim seemed to be fascinated by the decorations on Altaïr’s robe and after a yawn he tried to grab them, but failed every time.

“No wonder, paperwork is tedious.” Malik turned to them but he could feel Maria’s eyes still on him.

“Then, maybe you should help me, so it won’t take up so much time.”

“But everything needs to be approved by the Mentor himself.” He was fighting not to let the smirk form on his face.

“Interesting, how you’re ready to act in my name any other times, but with the papers, suddenly it can be only me.” He was frowning at him, but Malik could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Very interesting, indeed.” They were interrupted by the noise of running feet and shortly a woman approached them, breathing heavily.

“I’m so sorry, my Lady, Heba didn't tell me she went to town, I should have...”

“It’s quite alright, Dana. Don’t worry about it.” Maria interrupted her with a little smile. “Please take Darim to his nap.” The woman took the boy from Altaïr, Darim voiced his displeasure shortly, it seemed he was content enough in his father’s arms. “I will go out myself to town, it will not take long.”

“Yes, my Lady. Mentor, _Dai_.” She bowed her head to them and walked away with Darim in her arms. It still made Malik smile, how the expression ‘my lady’ fascinated the girl and she refused to address Maria any other way. Maria stood up, gave Altaïr a short kiss and headed out without another word. It seemed they were at an agreement.

“We should get back to work.” Malik started, but when he walked past Altaïr, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He felt the Assassin step behind him and his voice came from right beside his ear.

“So you think you have me?” Malik felt his pulse quicken, but he forced himself not to react.

“No” he said with all seriousness. “I know I have you.” He turned just enough to look into the amber eyes. Their gaze locked for a few seconds then a little smile appeared on Altaïr’s lips. It was all the confirmation Malik needed. He started to walk again and the Assassin’s hand fell from his shoulder, but he heard that the other was following him. Malik though about the closeness they shared just now, how both of them could close it, but neither felt the need to do it. They never did. That was not what they needed each other for.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then years passed and eventually Altaïr left for Mongolia.


	4. Chapter 4

At first he counted the days. It was somewhere near at the end of the ninth month when he lost count and his hopes as well.

At first he was furious. How could have this happened? At first he tried to reason with them, but nobody wanted to listen to him. He even tried to escape; to where, he wasn’t sure, but he had to get out of the hole Abbas had thrown him in. But to no avail; he was heavily guarded all the time. They did not underestimate him; Abbas knew exactly what he was capable of. Damn them all. And now he was too weak to do anything. He mostly lost his sense of time, and sometimes he thought he even lost his mind.

Sometimes it was the heat, then the cold; he couldn’t tell if he had been unconscious for minutes or for days when he woke. His mind was playing tricks on him, and he could not tell any more if he was awake or not when the dreams came.

He saw his brother a lot. Sometimes Kadar even spoke to him, but he never heard what he said. He saw himself walk into Solomon’s Temple with him and Altaïr and he wanted to scream at himself not to let Altaïr act on his own, he wanted to scream at Altaïr not to rush forward like the arrogant idiot he was. But the scene still remained the same every time. Robert still threw Altaïr over the wall and they had to fight for their life with Kadar. He still screamed when the sword was shoved through his brother’s chest and he fell. He remembered the rage and the blood. All that blood.

He saw himself running, pressing the box close to his chest and just running. He almost passed out on his horse from exhaustion and the pain; after a time his left arm just felt numb, but he did not stop until he reached Masyaf. And he remembered amber eyes looking at him in shock, but he could feel no satisfaction from the anger on Altaïr’s face, when he saw Malik was successful where he failed. All he felt was grief.

The rage waited just until he woke up to a healer talking to him too calmly about how they could not save his arm, but he will be alright. He drifted away from the memories. Thankfully they let themselves be pushed away, but others would come. They always did.

Those first few weeks, when he had to learn how to live once more. When the only thing that kept him alive was hate. Hate for the Templars, for the Brotherhood; hate for Altaïr. He was in the Bureau again, studying a map when he heard his voice greeting him.

“Your presence here deprives me of both.”

Why again? They both paid for their mistakes, why had he to be reminded of those months by his own mind? Why couldn’t he remember the good times? _There were no good times._ That’s not true. There were, when Altaïr always greeted him with a warm embrace and gave him a kiss when one of them left Masyaf.

He remembered finding Altaïr pacing in the library one day, not long after he returned from Jerusalem. Malik asked what was troubling him, but he didn’t get a straight answer just some mumbling about fools and their need for confirmation. He tried a few more times, but it seemed like Altaïr didn’t even fully realised he was there. Malik decided to leave him until he would surface from his musings again and told him so. Altair looked up and stared at him with slightly widened eyes.

“Say that again.”  He did, now confused. “That’s it!” Altaïr said, suddenly excited, pointing his finger at Malik. “You are a genius, Malik.”

“We all know that, but…” he started in a dry tone, but was cut off by Altaïr grabbing his head and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

“Thank you.” He said with a grin and run off, out of the castle. Malik stared after him stunned for a long time.

“It finally happened. He has lost his mind.” He murmured to himself and carried on with his duties somehow amused.  Now that he thought back, that was the first time Altaïr kissed him.

Driven by a sudden idea, Malik dug out Altaïr's flag collection and ordered them to be cleaned and sewn together to replace the draperies in the Mentor's bed chamber. When Altaïr returned from Cyprus Malik accompanied him and Maria to Altaïr's rooms and lingered outside just long enough to hear the Assassin's laugh even through the closed door. Now he would give everything just to feel his friend beside himself again. But how could he face Altaïr after he let them take everything? It would never have happened with a strong leader, it would never have happened with Altaïr. And Sef… Oh, the poor boy. How could they have been so blind? Malik never knew any god, nor did feel the need for them. He believed in reason and the human mind. Now that he was betrayed by both, what was left? He almost wished he believed in some god, so there would be someone to pray to. But there was nothing left for him.

He would dream about Shian too. At first he more felt, than actually saw her. He was used to being watched in Masyaf by the villagers, all the Assassins were. When he finally laid eyes on the woman, she smiled at him in a way that let little doubt about her intentions toward him. At first he tried to ignore her, because she looked young and also, those were just too busy times. He couldn't spare his attention to anything else, even though he hadn't had company in his bed for a long time. But others started to notice it too; even Sef teased him, saying Altaïr already beat him; at almost thirty years it would be about time for him to have a family too. Malik would glare at him half-heartedly and say he had more than enough brats in his life already and the boy would laugh at him. But in the end he did approach the girl one day; he thought if he gives her what she wants then all this nonsense would end. But after a few days, he saw her again and she gave him the same look and Malik found himself promising her, he would visit again.

One day he heard two guards speaking, they were musing if their Mentor was dead. He was gone for almost nine and a half years already. Maybe he will never return. Malik wished for the darkness to come and to never wake from it again.

He also remembered that mission, all too well. It was supposed to be an easy mission. The agreement was made; all that was left was a formal meeting between the two parties to make the promises official. Showing their good will, Malik went himself with only one other Assassin. Fares volunteered, jumping on the opportunity to go on a mission with Malik, and he happily took him. The boy was one of their best. Although he was more a man, than a boy for years now, but Malik will always remember him as he first noticed Fares on Maria's lesson. He had such a bright future ahead of him, and now he was laying in Malik's arm, bleeding. He grabbed the _Dai's_ clothes in a weakening grip, mouthing the words 'It's not your fault' over and over again until his eyes rolled back and his hand fell from Malik's robe. And he could do nothing, but watch. It was his fault. This is what happens whenever he let Altaïr's optimism effect him, too. At least the wound was big; it only took a minute to bleed him out. Malik remembered closing the boy's eyes and unlike himself murmuring a small prayer for his brother. Then he grabbed the knife and things blurred together with the rage. He remembered the blood. The two men they were supposed to make the agreement with... one of them lying dead on the floor among the other bodies. He had the other one pinned to a wall, arm broken, knife pressed to his throat.

“We had an agreement.” He snarled to the man.

“You expected us to believe your word, infidel?”

“We might deceive and kill, but we never lie. Not with our words. This is on your conscience.” He nodded to the bloodbath he left behind. “Keep your promise and never cross the Assassins ever again!” He weighed his words by pressing his blade to the man's skin just enough to draw blood. He wanted to kill him, everything in him wanted to kill him, but he stepped back, slowly backing away.

“Why would we? What's stopping me to order your death for what you've done here?” He tried to act tough, but Malik saw how his hand trembled when he touched his throat.

“If I do not return, do not doubt that the Order will come for you and hunt you down. You won't see them. Not until you are but a mouse in the eagle's claws.” Malik saw how the man paled from what he saw on Malik's face. “We will destroy you.” He left the place undisturbed, it was cold outside. He took Fares' body back to Masyaf, he couldn't bear the thought to leave him behind. Not him too. He didn't remember his way back, just that he stood in front of Altaïr's table, the Mentor and Maria was speaking to him, but he couldn't hear them over the numb buzz in his head.

“The deed is done, Mentor.” He saw both their faces go alarmingly serious. “But I failed” was all he could say. Maria touched his shoulder; Malik looked at her with empty eyes. She looked back at Altaïr, and then left the room without any other word. The Mentor stood up, walked over to him and embraced him. Malik never thought of Fares anything other than as an Assassin, even if he was found of him. Never did he think him to be a second chance which he never had with Kadar. But now as his clothes were still stained with his blood, all he could think was that from now on his eyes too will haunt his dreams alongside Kadar's. He buried his face in Altaïr's neck and let himself be held until his body warmed up, even if his heart did not completely.

He dreamed about that night again. The night when they were talking quietly, while the sweat was slowly drying on their overheated skin. Shian told him about the first memory she could remember; an attack on the town. Malik looked away frowning, the thought of how many others had these kinds of memories still irked him. She touched his eyebrows smoothing out the frown with her fingers. It became her habit whenever Malik was thinking too hard. She told him how she saw the Assassins fight to protect the town, what she could remember, more clearly than anything else was their Mentor and his lieutenant fighting side by side to protect the people. That was the moment she decided she would never abandon Masyaf, no matter what happens. The Assassins gave their lives for them, the least they could do was to stay and work there, for themselves and for the Brotherhood. When she became older she had a favourite Assassin, as all her friends. They gathered by the market place whenever they saw the Assassins move through the town, giggling when they laid eyes on their favoured man. Later, her parents made her marry a man even though she didn't want it. It was nice at first, but when she told him she had other plans with her life the man became aggressive with her. He would beat her, even in public. Eventually he was chased out of the town by the Assassins because of it. After that she refused any marriage idea her parents came up with. They fought a lot about it, but not anymore. Her parents died last month in an accident on the roads. Landslide. Malik remembered that, but he didn't know there were casualties. When he voiced his condolences she just smiled at him sadly and shrugged. Although she grieved for her parents, finally she was free to do as she pleased. She smiled at him and Malik felt his eyes widen a bit as she moved closer. Malik found himself talking about Kadar and other things he thought he buried so deep, he could never speak about ever again. That was the moment he felt the void in his soul left behind by Altaïr being covered. Not filled, but the emptiness he felt was dulled by the young woman he held in his arm.

When he woke up the warmth was gone and he shivered in his cell. He refused to acknowledge the tears burning behind his eyes. What have become of her, and all the men who were loyal to him and Altaïr? He dared not to think about it.

He was dreaming again, he heard him call his name, but the voice was slightly different and the dull pain in his body which he associated with wakefulness was still there. He opened his eyes slowly, his vision was blurred and all he could see was a white hood in the poor light. When he could finally focus on amber eyes, he felt he might sob in relief.

“Can you walk, my friend?”

“For you, I can.” He rasped and let Altaïr help him to his feet. But he was too weak, he cursed himself for his fatigue, at least when they reached a room his mind was clear again. He felt another wave of relief when he saw Maria. She looked at him shocked, then concern took over her features and she was by his side with a cup of water when Altaïr laid him on the only bed in the small room. He took small sips of the water Maria was offering him and answered all their questions, also trying to apologise, but Altaïr dismissed it with sincerity. He swore to make it good, only if he wasn’t so weak.

“Rest now, my friend.” Altaïr bent down to place a kiss on his forehead then he left the room with Maria. Malik fell back on the bed and for a long time now, he had hope again. They have their Mentor again. Whatever Abbas made of the Brotherhood they can take it back now. He will gain his strength back, and will be able to stand by his friend again. Maybe he could try to find Shian, if for nothing else just to know, that she was safe. Shortly a blessed sleep took him over; finally he was able to rest.

Malik woke again when someone entered the room. He though Altaïr and Maria had returned from their talk. He wanted to know what they were planning even if most likely he won’t be able to participate. He forced himself to wake up fully, when he opened his eyes the only thing he saw, was the lights reflected on a blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I wrote the whole story in Malik's POV the previous chapter should have been the last one, but I just couldn’t let it end like that. So here you go. It was inspired by this beautiful fanart:   
> http://enduro.deviantart.com/art/ACR-Homecoming-270593932

He leaned back in the chair and let out a tired sigh. Now even the walk from the door to his chair had exhausted him, but that was fine. The library was empty, and he was certain Darim would make sure, that the town would be empty too. He had only one more thing to do. He took the disk out from his robes and held it in both of his hands, concentrating on the memories he wanted to pass on. He wished he knew to whom. When the light from the disk died out and the darkness claimed the library again Altaïr rested his hands in his lap still holding the artefact in his weakening grip. Now it was done. He let the fatigue spread in his body and waited. And waited. His mind wandered and he could hear the voices again, but he knew they weren't real, they never were. It hurt to remember, but it would have hurt even more to forget. He closed his eyes wishing the memories away.

“You sure took your time.” He knew that voice all too well. Altaïr opened his eyes to see a figure standing before him.

“You are not real.” He said in a sad and tired tone.

“Am I now?” He could hear the smirk in the other's voice as he knelt before him and looked up at him. “Does that really matter?” Altaïr looked down on Malik's face, young as he was many years before.

“Maybe not. I fulfilled my role.” Why not let the visions take him now; as he wanted them to many, many times before. “I've met your son. You'd be proud of him.” Altaïr watched, as many emotions run through Malik's face. His eyes widened a bit in shock then he just smiled.

“I'm glad.” Altaïr raised his hand, but stopped mid-motion not daring to touch. What if he'd be disappointed yet again? It was Malik who moved his face to Altaïr's hand and the Mentor had to fight the sob that wanted to break from his throat, because he could feel it. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Malik's forehead.

“I've missed you.” He said in a strained voice, rough with emotions.

“We missed you too.” A hand touched his face and he looked up at Maria, standing beside him.

“My love” he breathed leaning into her touch, inhaling deeply. He felt tears burning behind his eyes, because he could feel them; they smelled like home, a scent he did not feel in so long he thought he forgot it completely.

“Are you ready to go now?”

“I was ready for a long time now.”

Malik only let out an amused snort. “Still you are lying only to yourself. But even if you were, that wretched thing would not let you.”

“I'm sorry...” Maria stepped in front of him and placed her finger to his mouth smiling.

“Come.” Altaïr didn't even notice how easy it was for him to stand up; only when he saw the golden threads flare up everywhere around him. He looked down on his hands which were young and strong again. When he looked up he saw Malik and Maria standing further away, waiting for him. He started to walk to them but stopped, when he heard his name.

“Requiescat in pace, Altaïr.” He turned back to see a man in dark robes rise from his kneeling position in front of his chair and turned to him. He was near his fifties, but still handsome and he wore a familiar hood with the Assassin's seal on his clothes.

“Ezio? And Altaïr? Okay, now this is just freaky.” They both turned to the voice to find a young man standing not far from them in unusual clothing.

“You must be Desmond.” The hooded man, Ezio said. Altaïr felt a smile stretch his lips.

“Yeah, somebody wants to tell me what the heck is going on here? How is this even possible?”

“Fate has its funny ways.” The other two looked at him. “I entrust the future to you. Safety and peace, brothers.” He turned away and started walking toward his family, leaving behind the other Assassins and the golden light.

 

***The End***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I made myself sad again. But I just wanted them to meet somehow, even if only for a moment.   
> Thanks for reading. ^^


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